The Pranksters' Comeuppance
by PenguinxHero
Summary: Near has finally had enough, and he decides to beat Mello and Matt at their own game. However, his pranks have unintended side effects... "Roger, I believe I may have inadvertently caused World War Three." Wammy's House one-shot. Silliness abounds.


**~The Pranksters' Comeuppance~**

The tea cup clacks gently against the saucer as Roger sets it down, but he might as well have dropped it for all the sound it makes in the room. Near watches him intently, bordering on staring, with a knee pulled up to his chest and a hand buried in his white locks. His fingers twirl around a single strand, tighter and tighter, working it into an anxious knot. The fingers on his free hand twitch, longing to be put to some use: restless hands for a restless mind.

Roger looks at him squarely over the rims of his glasses and his folded hands. "What urgent matter has brought you to my office today?"

Near stays quiet. He notices the liver spots on the man's hands, the butterflies on display over on the wall. Death in numerous stages: approaching and retreating. The room smells almost antiseptic.

Through the window, over Roger's head, he sees a butterfly dancing in the afternoon sunlight.

_Flutter by_, Near thinks with a slight sardonic twist of his lips, _and be glad you do not share your brothers' fate_.

One of the windows is slightly cracked open, and the distant sound of screaming children playing in the yard floats in. Near does not envy them, even despite the present circumstances. He hates the outdoors.

"I believe I may be in some danger," he says at last, calmly as always, as if it is of no consequence.

Roger, of course, is much more spirited in his reaction. His bushy eyebrows jump up towards his receded hairline and he leans forward. "What sort of danger?" After all, the number one successor of L is not known to state such things without cause.

Near rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and slumps slightly. "It is of my own making."

"Do explain."

"Roger," – here, the boy's voice at last gains a sense of the seriousness of the situation – "I believe I may have inadvertently caused World War Three."

"Oh, dear." The man exhales and deflates like a slowly leaking balloon. Near's claim has reason to affect him; after all, even the least clever of the orphans at Wammy's House could do great damage if allowed the opportunity. His work as a caretaker there does nothing to ease his distrust of youth. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning."

Before Near can speak, there is a veritable explosion in the hallway followed by the shrieking of children and adults alike.

Roger pales. Despite his arthritic knees, he shoots out of his chair and is across the room in seconds. Opening the door to his office, he sticks his head out into the hallway, but immediately recoils. "Dear, Lord!" he exclaims through coughs. "They broke into the chemistry lab!"

Near has a sinking feeling that he knows exactly whom Roger is referring to.

Then comes the war cry and the answering roar: "_Matt! _After I get a hold of you, your body will be so mangled, they'll have to identify you by your _dental records!_"

Near hears someone blow a raspberry (most likely Matt – only he would be so brave and so very, very foolish in the face of Mello's threats), and he sinks further in his chair. He looks up to see Roger staring at him, for the first time turning a look of disappointment towards him. The man looks to have aged ten years in just those few moments.

"What have you done?"

Near clears his throat and looks down at his socks. "I baked and did some work on the computer…"

"Details, if you would." It's not a request; it's a desperate command.

"I…" – Near falters – "I baked itching powder into brownies and left a plate of them in Mello's room. Then, I hacked into Matt's laptop and put all of his documents into code, leaving a note of the cipher and the book that he can use to decode them; said book being Linda's journal, which describes in great detail how she would like to marry and have babies with him. I led them to believe that these pranks were perpetrated by each other."

For all that Roger is trying to remain dignified and grave, he still flushes. "And, pray tell, why did you do these wicked things?"

At last, Near peers up at him, and the glare he sends his way is as sharp as flint. "Because, I have had _enough_. Enough of pink hair dye; enough of kick-me signs; enough of whoopee cushions; and enough of the defacing of my action figures with poorly drawn mustaches! I have had enough of _pranks_!" His voice drops into a hiss: "It was well past time for them to know how it feels."

This comment hangs in the air between them for a few, long moments. Then, Roger straightens and levels a look at the boy (a very intelligent boy, but still a boy, nonetheless). "Be that as it may, the orphanage is currently in crisis. You seem to be the only person that could add some clarity to this insanity. As much as I share your complaints, it is wrong to leave them with this false impression – and gravely dangerous for any innocent bystanders. You know what you must do."

Near gives him a small nod. The next words are so quiet, Roger strains to hear them: "Will you hold my hand?" The strand of hair around Near's finger is pulled so taut, Roger fears it is close to being ripped out.

Roger smiles. Still a boy, indeed. "Of course, Near."

As they walk out into the warzone, the damage is immediately apparent. A rotten-egg-like odour hangs in the air like a fog, paintings are knocked off kilter and papers are strewn all about, and Aqua's "Barbie Girl" blares over the intercom at near-deafening volume. Just then, a group of five-year-olds run screaming and crying from the playroom; Roger has a sickening suspicion that this will be Ground Zero.

Before they have a chance to investigate, some sort of eight-limbed, screeching, flailing creature rolls out of the playroom and into the hallway. Roger's legs are right in its path, and as it connects, it comes to a stop. Stationary, but still screaming, the creature is seen to be none other than two very angry thirteen-year-old boys: the troublemakers in question, Matt and Mello. The blond's hair is now a very distinctive grape-purple, while Matt's trademark, his goggles, hang around his neck, replaced by raccoon-like black marks around his eyes.

"That is enough, boys!" Roger declares in his sternest tone, picking them both up by the collars of their shirts.

Still, dangling in the air as they are, they try to strike each other. A quick shake sorts this behaviour out. Once they have calmed down, Roger sets them back on their feet.

"He started it!" Mello crows with an imperious sniff of his nose.

Matt rolls his eyes and mutters, "'Like hell I did."

Roger puts his hands on his hips and scowls. "I don't care who started it; I'm finishing it! This behaviour is intolerable! I expect an apology immediately."

Mello and Matt share a look. "No!" They whirl around, turning their backs to the other.

The elderly man softens his tone: "Really, boys? You would toss aside your friendship over something so ridiculous?"

They each sneak a peek at each other before snapping back into position. "Yes!"

"Well," Roger sighs, "that is unfortunate. At least there is someone here who is willing to admit and make amends for their hand in this. Near, you may go ahead."

The two teens freeze, and comprehension dawns in their eyes. Mello looks like someone has just slapped him across the face, while Matt looks mildly impressed.

Near squeezes Roger's hand tight as he begins: "It's true; I knowingly started this argument between you two. I am responsible for the itching powder in Mello's chocolate and the scrambling of Matt's documents; it was my hope that these trespasses would be attributed to the other party. The idea was… well, that divided, you would fall, and the pranks against my person would cease. I… apologize."

With dropped jaws, they gape at him.

Matt is the first to recover. Chuckling, he says, "Near, you devious little shit."

Mello's reaction is decidedly less desired. "I'm going to kill him," he growls, his eyes narrowed to slits.

"Now, now," Roger chides, "there will be none of that. He will be appropriately punished."

Mello immediately brightens.

"As will you," Roger adds.

And just like that, Mello deflates.

"The two of you will clean up the entirety of the mess you have made, including the transformations you have made to each other's appearances. I will also expect you to apologize to the staff and the other orphans that you traumatized. Do I make myself clear?"

Mello glowers at Near with his arms crossed. "What about him?"

"I was just getting to that. Besides mealtimes, bedtime, and classes for the next two months, Near will assist me in cataloguing my insect collection and doing any other custodial duties I might require of him."

"Man, that sucks…" Matt shakes his head.

"Indeed," Roger agrees. "Does this sound like appropriate recompense, Mello?"

The glower softens, but the gaze that Mello levels at Near is still clearly hostile. "I suppose…"

"Then, it's settled. Off to work with the both of you!"

Before they wander off, they turn to each other and grasp the other's hands. Roger and Near watch in bemusement as they perform an extremely complicated handshake, ending with a hug. As they walk away, Mello wraps an arm around Matt's shoulders.

"I can't believe I doubted you," the taller boy says.

"Yeah, that was pretty dumb," Matt replies, after which they hear the resounding _Ouch!_ as Mello slugs him in the arm.

As soon as the two boys are well out of earshot, Roger releases Near's hand and crouches down to his level, putting his hands on his shoulders. "I hope that you realize the punishment I gave you is for your own protection. I hope that in two months' time, Mello's attention will have moved on to some other gripe."

Near's eyes remain glued to the spot in which Matt and Mello were last standing. His only response to Roger's statement is a nod. He adds in a monotone, "Mr. Wammy really should pay you more."

Roger returns to his feet, a hand to his aching back. "My dear boy, he could never pay me enough."


End file.
